There was a time when the world was suddenly full of everyday miracles - dishes could all but wash themselves, complete dinners sat stacked in a freezer just minutes from the table, cool air awaited the push of a button. The tour guide to this world was Reddy Kilowatt, a funny little fellow with a round head, and if the mention of his name draws a smile, Robert Searcy has something he wants to show you.

Searcy sells homes. If it's got a roof and a willing buyer, he'll do a deal. But the houses he concentrates on, preaches the value of and has spent untold hours promoting with apostolic zeal lie close to Sims Bayou, not far from Hobby Airport, in a once-forgotten subdivision that oozes postwar American confidence with a nod to modern design.

Glenbrook Valley is his passion, and not coincidentally his home. He aggressively lobbies for potential buyers to look there, regardless of any initial disdain. Touting the city's largest and most recently named official historic district gives him an opportunity to be the "liar maker," as he puts it, the agent who melts away resistance with a great deal. The homes may come from a time before granite entered the kitchen vocabulary and bathtubs grew to the size of kiddie pools, but the best ones still have a magic that no giant box on a street of giant boxes can match.

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Searcy can tick off one client after another who has said no way, not a chance, that they would ever consider buying in Glenbrook, which in September was named to the top 10 in a list of 61 special "old neighborhoods" by a national specialty publication. His method is simple. He shows them the right house at an amazing price, then introduces them to potential neighbors who share his desire for an old-fashioned American neighborhood, where people know each other, socialize together and are intent on protecting what they regard as a special place.

'You join a cause'

"You don't just buy a home here, you join a cause," Searcy said.

A symbol of Sun Belt confidence and Space Age enthusiasm, Glenbrook Valley was born in the mid-1950s. Just off the Gulf Freeway, one exit south of Loop 610, its location had instant appeal. It was no casual thing that the neighborhood was the sole site of the 1956 Parade of Homes, a once-prominent event that drew in excess of 100,000 people to look at the latest in homebuilding. Promotional material touted the "highly restricted, exclusive" new subdivision boasting all-electric kitchens, large lots and a fresh look.

'Pinnacle' homes

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But Glenbrook did not fare well as Houston development marched into new and distant suburbs. People looking for starter-home pricing found it by the acre on the southern and western prairies. Those looking to escape urban grit and challenged schools were drawn to leafy enclaves in Kingwood and The Woodlands. And folks of rising affluence who yearned for space and luxury and the company of people much like themselves drifted into upscale developments, some behind locked gates.

And, of course, the population of Houston not only grew but changed. Gradually Glenbrook saw a rising minority presence on its flanks. Though home to an economically diverse population thanks to homes of different sizes, Glenbrook was racially homogenous. For some residents, fear of change was one more impetus to go.

"There was a lot of white flight," said retired schoolteacher Ann Collum, president of the civic association and a resident of four decades. "But I was happy and satisfied here. I'm stubborn."

Even as the city aged and housing close to town began to draw interest from empty nesters, weary commuters and younger generations with different sensibilities, Glenbrook was overlooked. Property values rose dramatically in Houston Heights, Garden Oaks, Montrose and a handful of other neighborhoods within a few minutes of downtown. Glenbrook remained flat.

But Searcy saw the value in the 1,257 homes that make up the neighborhood proper. The location eight miles southeast of downtown was an obvious draw. But more important was what he calls "build quality." The eclectic collection of modern contemporary, ranch style and traditional designs were not tossed up assembly-line fashion from generic blueprints. Some of the city's most admired architects were employed as the subdivision took shape, which no doubt accounts the high number of "mod" examples stressing linear shape and oblique angles - think George Jetson meets Mad Men. Such "pinnacle" homes, as Searcy calls them, have brought Glenbrook national attention from a variety of organizations and publications.

Modest houses

Just as Riverside Terrace had once attracted wealthy Jewish businessmen and professionals, so did Glenbrook, becoming a magnet for upper middle class Italian families - Carrabba, Mandola, Montalbano - who had custom homes built there. While a number of the contemporary and ranch homes featured built-in bars for entertaining, theirs often had religious niches as well, with slide-out padded kneeling bars for prayer. One consistent element was an open floor plan with large rooms - perfect for parties or large families.

In truth, the bulk of the houses were modest, as developer Fred McManis Jr.had to be mindful of economic realities. But more than a few were quite expensive for the day, with price tags exceeding $50,000 when a nice home could be bought for a third of that. Structurally most have held up well, expensive or not, even as Glenbrook began to suffer decline, and the homes were poorly maintained. While Searcy speaks hopefully of a renaissance already under way, much of that discussion is future tense.

Local time capsule

There is an upside to Glenbrook Valley's forgotten status, which may be nearing an end following its being named an official historic district by city hall. Because the houses were not in demand during the real estate boom, there was no incentive for redevelopers to snap them up, tear them down and put up fancy - and expensive - new ones. The teardown phenomenon has altered the character of neighborhoods across inner Houston, for better or worse. It is not likely to happen here because of vigorously enforced deed restrictions as well as obstacles created by historic designation.

And so the time capsule remains, with Searcy self-chosen to bring it to Houston's attention. Perception is his enemy. He is well aware that those who see block after block of run-down apartments as they drive to Hobby Airport are likely to believe neighborhoods in the area have fallen on similar hard times.

Don Dorcey didn't get much of a positive vibe when his partner Mike Morse and he first considered Searcy's suggestion about six years ago. They had lived in Houston Heights, then given the suburbs a try in Coles Crossing. Now they were eager to find a destination that felt a little more like home. When Searcy suggested Glenbrook, they were skeptical. Most people they knew had not even heard of it. Show us the perfect house on the perfect lot, and we'll consider it, they told him.

In for the long haul

So he did - a stunning 5,000 square-foot ranch home that needed no remodeling. He also ran down the street to bring a potential neighbor to meet them at the showing, a favorite tactic. Searcy wants home shoppers to understand that Glenbrook is not just about the built environment but also a social scene in which owners are determined to stay and fight for the common good. Dorcey and Morse were smitten, and last year their home was named a city historic landmark.

"People here are in it for the long haul," said Dorcey, who works in IT for a law firm. "They don't come here with the idea of selling, making a little money and moving on in a few years."

Which was very much the point for Lindsey Horne, who with her husband had lived in the Heights and Montrose and considered themselves typical inside-the-Loopers. They had not imagined putting down roots in a suburban-style setting on the south side. Glenbrook Valley was an unknown.

"We have a core of people here who are intent on advancing the cause of the neighborhood," said Horne, cradling a baby daughter who will soon push her into a similar role with the local schools. "What turns anything around is having people with vision who are willing to challenge conventional thinking and have the guts to do something out of the ordinary."

Perhaps the number one champion is the one who does not get paid unless he makes a sale. Searcy specializes in Glenbrook and surrounding neighborhoods, and he points out that Glenbrook's sale prices are rising faster than theirs are. He runs the neighborhood website and monitors various chatrooms elsewhere in order to battle what he claims are common misconceptions. Crime is no worse in Glenbrook than elsewhere, and serious crime is lower than some more prestigious locations that sit adjacent to run-down areas.

Searcy mentions the new management district for the area, which will push tax money into needed improvements. He imagines a future when the strip centers along Broadway are spiffed up, and some of the dilapidated apartment complexes are gone. Wishful thinking, no doubt, but perhaps no more unlikely than believing a faded star from Houston could regain its luster in the midst of a real estate bust.

"We have a historic district and a management district, and those were huge undertakings," he said. "We have come so far. What really encourages me is not the architecture but the residents. It's all about the people who come here - and the people who don't."